


Letters & Lies

by toffeemugg



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Mystery, Original Character-centric, Other, POV Third Person, honestly the chapter spread out sucks but i'm sorry my writing style is janky as hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-01-23 17:12:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18554170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toffeemugg/pseuds/toffeemugg
Summary: Reine Wicker, a professor of history at Gressenheller, receives a mysterious typed letter on her desk, with nothing on the envelope but her last name.The letter's mysterious author asks Reine to help him figure out the key to raise a legendary city.What would happen if he finds that key? If she helps him find that key?Follow Reine Wicker as she makes the worst decisions of her entire life and gets herself wrapped up in a conspiracy far bigger than she'd ever imagine.





	1. Ominous Correspondence

**Author's Note:**

> this is being posted on mobile (yikes) so I'll add more tags later  
> anyways enjoy my shitty layton oc story

It was a rainy night when Reine Wicker first received the letter - the first in a series of many to come. The first in a series of letter that would lead to her spiral into mistrust.

 

Reine trudged down the hall, nearly exhausted from her meeting moments prior. She reached her office door, unlocked it, and swung it open. Her aim tonight was to organise a couple of her papers and go home, but fate had other plans. She closed the door behind and and turned on a lamp by the loveseat, filling the room with a dim and warm light. Reine walked over to her desk and nearly collapsed in the chair. She rubbed her eyes and looked down at the desktop. Except something seemed... off. An envelope sat in the middle of the table, on top of all the other papers. On the envelope was no return or sending address. All that was written on it was the name "Wicker". Reine's last name.

Reine was confused, but intrigued. She carefully picked up the envelope and turned it around in her hands. She frowned at the sealed side and set the envelope down, reaching for a letter opener. She grabbed the utensil and hastily opened the seal on the envelope. She slid out whatever the envelope's contents were - a letter, she assumed - and set the envelope aside. Reine held the piece of paper in her hands, hesitant to open it. For all she knew, it could be a threat. Or heaven forbid, a sliding puzzle.

Whatever her worries were, Reine ignored them for the moment and opened the letter. It was typed, which was bad news all on its own. A mysterious  _ typed _ letter with  _ no _ addresses whatsoever on it appears - that's enough to scare anyone. But Reine looked to the top of the letter and started reading:

 

_ Professor Wicker, _

_ I hope this letter finds you in good health. Though I'd like to get the pleasantries out of the way as soon as possible. Business must be conducted.  _

_ You see, I have heard of your research about the Azran and I was hoping you would be as kind as to lend me a hand. _

_ Although I am making enough progress on my own, I need an outside eye. _

_ You, a scholar of all people, should understand. I too am a man of science, and my goals to understand the Azran should be right up your alley. _

_ I wouldn't worry too much about a return address if you decide to respond. _

_ Just set it outside the window. _

_ Yours, _

_ An Interested Party _

 

Reine frowned at the letter. How did this fellow know of her research? Why did he decide to contact her? Why did he contact her  _ like this?!  _ It was needlessly dramatic, Reine thought as she set the letter down and stared out the window. The rain tapped quietly on the glass. Everything about this told Reine to not answer to the letter, to not give the author what he wants. She should tell someone about this - Hershel, maybe. No, he was too busy doing his own work. Besides, Reine could deal with this mysterious letter. She looked back down at the letter. She sighed and picked up a pen and paper sitting on the desk. For better or for worse, she's responding to this letter.

 

_ Dear Sir, _

_ Your letter, despite being sent in the most needlessly complicated and dramatic way, intrigued me. _

_ Whatever business you wish to have with me shall be addressed. _

_ And I hope you understand that to help you with your predicament, I need more information. I need specifics. _

_ \-- R. Wicker _

 

Reine set her pen down after drawing the final dash in her signature. How was this letter going to be sent if it was pouring outside? She found a spare envelope on her desk and slid the paper inside. She leaned forward and opened the window with a  _ clack!  _ Almost immediately, the cold, wet night air hit her face. Reine narrowed her eyes against the wind and placed the envelope on her windowsill on the outside and shut the window. She locked it and exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding. She looked around nervously and rubbed her arm. She didn't feel safe enough to head home tonight.

Reine got up from her chair and headed towards her coatrack, where she grabbed a trench coat sitting on a hook. She slung the coat around her shoulders and walked to the loveseat in the center of the office. With a long, final glance at window, Reine switched off the lamp and laid down on the loveseat. If anybody broke into her office, she'd be one to know.

Hopefully.

~o0o~

Loud, curt knocks lulled Reine out of her sleep. She lazily opened her eyes, but immediately shut them. The sunlight of the morning shone right in her eyes. The knocking continued, followed by a voice.

"Reine? Are you alright?" the voice asked. Reine groaned and sat up, propping herself up with her elbow.

"What..? Yes, yes, I'm alright! Do you need me?" she called to the door. She slung her legs over the loveseat and pushed herself onto the floor.

"Could you open the door?" the voice asked. "Oh! Of course, I apologise." Reine's eyes widened and she speed-walked to the door. She unlocked the door and opened it to see Professor Layton standing there, a concerned look on his face.

"When I first knocked, you didn't answer. Are you alright, Reine?" he asked again. Reine stepped aside from the door and gestured for her friend to enter.

"I didn't hear your first knock, I was sleeping," she explained with a laugh.

"Sleeping?" Professor Layton asked, walking into the office. Reine closed the door behind him and nodded.

"Yeah. I slept here last night," she said. She pointed to the loveseat where her coat lay.

"Would you like some water? I'm afraid it's all I have right now," she asked. The Professor shook his head.

"No, thank you, Reine. If you don't mind me asking, why did you sleep in your office?" he asked. Reine's expression hardened briefly. And she glanced at the window. The letter she set out- it was gone.

"The letter - the letter, where did it go?" she said, rushing over to her desk. Professor Layton stared quizzically at Reine.

"A letter?" 

"Yes! I set one out on the windowsill last night, and now it's gone!" she exclaimed. "It couldn't have just… disappeared like that!"

Professor Layton got up and followed Reine to the desk and looked at the windowsill with her.

"Why did you set a letter out on you windowsill of all places?" he asked.

"It had to have been a dream," Reine muttered to herself. Her eyes darted down at the desk and saw an opened envelope and paper on it. She grabbed the paper and opened it. It was the same one she received last night. She showed it to the Professor.

"This. Read it. I couldn't make this up if I tried," she said. Professor Layton held the letter and read it. After a moment of silence between the two of them, Professor Layton lowered the letter.

"That's… quite concerning," he said after a while.

"I--  _ no duh, Hershel!  _ I was straight terrified, that's why I stayed here overnight. I didn't feel safe to head home," Reine explained. Professor Layton nodded sagely and handed Reine back the letter.

“Did you respond to this letter?” he asked.

Reine frowned.

“...If I did, is that a bad thing?”

“Well…” Professor Layton said, taking a few steps from Reine and placing his index finger and thumb to his chin, “I can’t say for sure. There wasn’t any aggressive wording in the letter, nor did the author label out any threats…”

Reine glanced at Professor Layton, waiting for his verdict.

“I suppose if you wanted to continue corresponding with this man, you should do so carefully,” he finished.

“Of course. And if anything dangerous happens, I’d be sure to tell you as soon as possible,” Reine said. Professor Layton gave Reine a smile and nodded. She returned his smile with a grin and turned back to the window.

“I trust you to do the right thing, Reine. Though I can’t help but be suspicious of this myself,” he said. Reine frowned and glanced behind her at Professor Layton.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I had just recently gotten a mysterious typed letter myself. Although it turned out to be from Luke, I can’t help but think that whoever typed your letter is related to the events in Misthallery,” he explained. Reine sucked in a breath. He told her about what went on in Misthallery after he abruptly left a couple months ago. A specter was terrorizing the town of Misthallery, but Luke and Layton figured out that it wasn’t a ghost destroying everything, but a mechanical beast.

“I hate to say this, but you may be right, Hershel,” Reine said. “Though I doubt what happened in Misthallery has to do with the Azran, I’ll keep my eyes open.”

“Good idea, Reine,” Professor Layton said. He walked to the door of Reine’s office.

“I have to get back to my own work, but I wish you the best,” he said. “Stay diligent.”

“Always!” Reine said, waving goodbye as the Professor left. She turned back to the windowsill and stared at it. 


	2. Who Are You?

It was evening again when Reine received a response.

 

She entered her office carrying an array of books, looking over from the stack to watch where she was going. She set the books down on a table nearby and looked to her desk. She found her gaze always drifting to the desk that day. And lo and behold, something new was there for her. Reine jogged over to her desk and saw that another envelope appeared on the windowsill by her desk. She leaned forward and opened the window and grabbed the letter. Like the first one, it was all blank except for “Wicker” written on it.

Reine opened the envelope and unfolded the letter:

 

_Professor Wicker,_

_I am more than ecstatic to hear your interest in my project. Your demand for specifics is reasonable, and I’m sure the details of these letters will remain confidential._

_As a history professor, I assume you are aware of the legends of Ambrosia, correct?_

_Then you must know that one day it is fated to rise again._

_I aim to be the one to raise it._

_However,  I have reached a nearly impassable obstacle in my efforts._

_I do not know what the key to Ambrosia is._

_And that is where you come in, my dear Professor._

_I need you to help me find out what the key is and subsequently, how I can obtain it._

_I await your response eagerly._

 

This time, the letter didn’t have a signature, which Reine thought was odd. What was even more odd, was that this author was interested in playing out a myth. Ambrosia was a legend - a story, nothing more. And even if it wasn’t, researchers haven’t proven the City of Harmony to have been in any physical location. Reine set the letter aside and found the needed utensils to respond. She pressed the pen down on the paper and started writing.

 

_Dear Sir,_

_Ambrosia is a legend. A myth. You have rather ambitious goals to be harping on what is most likely non-existent. I’m sure somewhere there are mentions of a way to raise Ambrosia. In a story, or old manuscript perhaps._

_Though something is bothering me._

_Who are you? You never introduced yourself, only as an “interested party”. I have no clue as to who you are, or if I can truly trust you._

_Your project interests me, yes, but I need to know who you are._

_You know me, why can’t I know you?_

_\-- R. Wicker_

 

Reine, like last time, set her letter in an envelope and set the envelope on her windowsill. It wasn’t raining tonight like it had yesterday. She locked the window back up and stared out the window again. Reine collected the two letters she had gotten so far in a small stack and held them in her hand. She felt like she could leave and head home tonight, and bringing along the letters with her was a good idea. She went over to her coat rack and grabbed her bag off of it. She carefully placed the letters in a pocket and slung the bag over her shoulder. With one final look at the window and desk, she left her office and headed down the hall to leave.

~o0o~

As Reine walked to the bus stop, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up. Corresponding with a mysterious person via magic letter was odd enough, but something more was happening behind the scenes. Reine adjusted the bag on her shoulder and stared down the street. The familiar rumbling of the bus grew louder as the double-decker appeared on the street and rolled down to the stop. It slowed to a halt and Reine climbed onto the bus, finding a seat and sitting down. She set her bag beside her and pulled out the two letters. The bus rumbled and started up again. Reine looked over the letters again, reading them back to front. She got nothing more from the letters than what they said. _Patience is a virtue_ , Reine thought as she put the letters back away and stared out the bus window. The townhouses and brick buildings seemed to blur all together as Reine’s thoughts drifted away from London and to this ‘project’.

 

Raising Ambrosia would be a spectacle, yes, but what it meant for historians and archeologists alike meant far more. Countless years of knowledge stowed away in a time-capsule disguised as a city! Reine knew people off the top of her head that’d be ecstatic at Ambrosia’s physical existence.

 

Then there came the problem if Ambrosia was just a tale. Reine couldn’t shake that it was just a legend. No elixir of eternal life could exist, so why should the story’s setting exist too? It was just too… too miraculous to be real. Reine sat on the fence between believing that Ambrosia was real or a myth. She was doubtful of its legitimacy, but a part of her deep down wanted the Eternal City to be real.

 

The trustworthiness of her correspondent also plagued Reine’s mind on the bus trip home. He clearly seemed to know what he was talking about, but he seemed rather passionate about this project. He was either a genius or a madman, Reine figured.

 

 _And God help me if I’m the fool following in his footsteps,_ she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for such a short update! i couldn't find a good place to split that would make it longer, so 880 words it is.  
> we're in for a special chapter next update ;)


	3. Anonymity Unmasked

"Did you get another letter?” Professor Layton asked, taking a sip of his tea.

Reine nodded. “I did, yeah.” She started to elaborate but cut herself off.  _ I’m sure the details of these letters will remain confidential,  _ she remembered the letter saying. 

“They asked about research recommendations. A little weird, but harmless for now,” she lied. “I told them to look for things in unlikely spots. Stories, myths, you know.”

Professor Layton hummed and Reine continued.

“I believe the writer is probably just a little shy to ask for help as themselves. Being anonymous gives someone a sense of confidence to actually do things,” she theorised. She took a sip of her own tea.

“Possibly,” Professor Layton said, not entirely convinced. “Though I hope you don’t get too distracted by the letters.”

Reine scoffed. “Says the man who abandons his job post at the drop of a hat if anything looks odd.”

Professor Layton laughed.

“It was one time, Reine,” he said.

“Ohhhh no, I know how you work, don’t act innocent with me,” she interjected. “But I suppose your flight to Misthallery was for the better.”

“Yes, I suppose so,” he added, looking out the window of his office. The room was built similarly to Reine’s, as all teacher offices at Gressenheller were. Though it was a lot more cluttered than Reine’s office. Papers were strewn about on the desk, along with a lamp and miscellaneous archaeological… things about on the desk. Although ever since Luke had come to London and became the Professor’s apprentice, the room seemed to be much tidier than usual.

The two professors chatted for a bit longer before they had to part ways. Reine said her goodbyes and Professor Layton did too, adding on a “stay diligent”. He started doing that ever since he heard about Reine and the letters. Reine walked down the hall from Professor Layton’s office and headed towards the college library.

She reached the library and opened the double doors leading to the large area. Reine nodded a brief hello to the current aide and headed all the way back to the ancient history section. If she truly were to help her correspondent, she would need as much information as possible.

~o0o~

“Ambrosia, Ambrosia, Ambrosia… where are your secrets, Ambrosia?” Reine whispered to herself as she trailed a finger along the spines of the books. Her finger stopped at a relatively thin volume labelled  _ The Myths, Lies, and Legend of Ambrosia _ . Reine grabbed the book and held it in her arm with a few others. Her gaze turned to a clock by the wall. It was 7:30 already? Reine sighed and readjusted the books on her arm. She went to check them out and after saying her farewells, went to drop them off at her office. And also check to see if another letter arrived. They usually arrived in the evening, Reine gathered. So a letter should’ve arrived by now.

 

Reine never caught who - or what - was delivering the letters. She almost forgot that the letters had to arrive  _ somehow _ , but the contents of each letter interested her more than how they arrived. Today was no different than the past two. A letter sat on her windowsill, labelled with nothing but Reine’s last name. Reine once again opened the letter and read it:

 

_ Professor Wicker, _

_ I suppose I should’ve introduced myself sooner. _

_ My name is Jean Descole. And I assure you, Ambrosia exists. _

_ I’ve seen signs of its architecture before, and it is mentioned too often to just be a tale. I’ve dedicated my life to the Azran. I of all people should be sure I’m not chasing after a myth. I’ve been looking over manuscripts like you suggested. There’s mentions of how the Ambrosians valued music above much else… perhaps that’s a clue to the key. Though I’m not sure what specific song must be played. I will continue to research. _

_ I trust you do the same. _

 

Now that she had a name to a… well, not exactly a face but an author, she could rule out one mystery. But now Reine and Descole had an inkling of what the key could be.

 

_ Descole, _

_ Your deductions might be a stretch, but at the same time we  _ are _ researching a city that may or may not have existed. I think focusing specifically on Ambrosia will help us. I’m sure anything could help lead to whatever song Ambrosia is linked to. I hope we find it soon, it’ll be such a scientific revelation. So much was lost could now be researched and understood. If we find out Ambrosia’s key, at least. _

_ \-- R. Wicker _

 

~o0o~

A few weeks passed and Reine and Descole had been writing each other letters nearly every day, detailing research and theories. Reine had kept discussions of the contents of her letters with Professor Layton to a minimum. Descole kept pushing that this project was a secret one, nobody was to know about their plans. Reine was suspicious of the secrecy at first, but her suspicions were put to the back of her mind. She needed to focus on the Ambrosian key. So far, she and Descole figured out that the seal of Ambrosia contained music. But neither of them could decipher what song the seal held. 

That is, until one night.

 

Like usual, Reine entered her office in the evening and saw a letter on her windowsill. She hastily opened the letter and read it:

 

_ Professor Wicker, _

_ I figured out the Ambrosian song. “The Song of the Sea”, it’s called. _

_ However, other than discovering the name, I have no leads as to what this song sounds like. _

_ That is, until I realized someone has already known of the Song of the Sea. However, she passed away fairly recently, and she was the only person who knew of it. _

_ This sounds like a stretch, and trust me it is, but I believe if we put our heads together, we'll find something of value. _

_ Which reminds me, my dearest Professor, of a proposition I have. I am working with another man to help revive that knowledge of the Song of the Sea. I believe it would be the most productive if we could all work together in the same space. _

_ Which is why I am inviting you to the location where I am conducting my research. Once you respond with your answer, I shall start preparations for your arrival or continue on with letter correspondence. _

 

Reine set the letter down on the desk, but kept staring at the words on the page. She slowly reached for a pen to write with. Was Descole serious? Reine didn't know whether to accept his invite and potentially reach a breakthrough or ignore it. After all, she has no idea what Descole really is like. He could be horribly dangerous, for all she knows. Reine set the pen down and ran her hands through her hair. She wanted to say yes, to further her and Descole's research. But…

Ignoring any and all doubts, Reine started writing the letter. Come hell or high water, historical breakthroughs valued much higher than her safety. 

 

_ Descole, _

_ I accept your invitation, and I hope any worries I have will be smoothly ironed out by the time of our meeting. In the meantime, I shall organise my notes. _

_ \-- R. Wicker _

 

Following her near clockwork routine of sealing the letter and setting it out on the windowsill, Reine sighed. She couldn't get this bitter taste out of her mouth. Whether her anxieties were fruitless worries or a premonition, only time would tell. She set her elbows on her desk and held her head in her hands. 

When was the last time she slept?

The days and nights have started to blur together, and the only concept of time Reine had was her job and the daily letters. The rest of her time spent was endlessly researching. Their goal seemed so far off now, even with the amount of successes they've been having.

And like the mythic Icarus, everything shall fall down in flames in due time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> des time! des time! des time!  
> also reine is smart i promise she's just. kind of an idiot sometimes
> 
> and now that summer's here i can work more on this fic and hopefully get more updates cranked out :)


	4. Light Shines on the Truth

Reine quickly thumbed through the stack of papers she'd gathered. Everything was here and accounted for! Good. She let out a content sigh - or an exhale of a breath she was holding - and carefully placed the papers in her bag. She readjusted the bag on her shoulder and promptly walked to her door to her flat. She opened the door and looked back at her living room, staring at the darkened room with sunlight begging to stream through the curtains. She'd be back soon. It was only a quick business trip, after all. Shouldn't take more than a few days at most. Reine closed and locked her apartment door behind her and headed down the hall.

The streets weren't very crowded. It was a Tuesday morning, so most people were either at work or at school. Because of the lack of people, Reine found and boarded a bus quite easily. The only thing she needed to do was switch buses later on, but for the next few hours she was alone with her thoughts.

~o0o~

It was a few hours past midday when Reine reached her destination. She held her bag and glanced down at the letter she held. She read over the instructions again, checking over for an address or anything.

No address.

Only a description of the building and landmarks.

_A golden, grand theatre on the north side of the Cliffs of Dover. It's built into the sea._

Reine looked at the horizon. She saw the blue ocean before her and the chalky white cliffs. She then scanned the cliffs before seeing a bright, gold, oddly shaped building.

"That must be it," Reine said, folding her letter up and making her way down the hillside.

Reine's pace slowed as she neared the large, gilded building. Her feet pattered on the pavement as she stared at the odd architecture. The arches reaching to the middle sure were _something,_ perhaps it was because of an aesthetic? She walked on the cobbled road to the entrance and circled around a fountain. It wasn't running, perhaps the theatre wasn't ready for the public yet? This Descole fellow did seem to be the type to own a theatre, though, so perhaps this was his establishment.

The sound of a large door opening drew Reine's attention. She spun around to look at the entrance. A cloaked figure, wearing a tricorn-esque hat, mask, and a fur boa walked out from the theatre. Reine had some expectations about what Descole looked like, but she never expected it to be so _odd._ Who wears a whole costumed getup on the daily?

"Jean… Descole?"

"Desco- _lay_ ," he corrected. _God damn it, Reine, you fucked it up on your first try. Congrats, dumbass._

"And you must be Professor Wicker," he continued. Reine nodded in confirmation and Descole smiled.

"Good. Now, I assume we have business to attend to?" he said.

"Yes! Right!" Reine replied, running up to his side and pulling out a file from her bag.

"You see, I've been organising my notes and I think I've stumbled across something _fascinating!"_

"Really? Let me hear it, then."

The two entered the theatre as Reine continued on with her findings. She didn't notice the elaborate decor, dozens of crowns and fossils on display, nor the fact that she and Descole were the only people in the foyer. Reine's voice bounced off the pristine ceiling and walls. Descole took the lead, heading through the halls of the theatre with Reine chattering on by his side. They talked and exchanged theories, with Reine occasionally pulling out a paper or two from her bag. They passed halls with paintings, halls with ancient fossils on display, and even passing through rooms dedicated to a certain art genre or historical time period, decorated with items from said genre or era. Reine wondered if they were all replicas… and she wondered how much money did this guy even _have?_

Eventually Descole and Reine made their way back to the foyer, circling around. Descole stopped at a large skeleton of a leviathan, and Reine did as well.

"...and thus, there's no other way Ambrosia would respond to the music," Reine finished. She took a quick breath and looked to the side, discouraged.

"Given if Ambrosia _actually existed_ ," she added.

"Oh, it exists," Descole said.

"You keep saying it does, but what do your words do? Where's your proof?" Reine asked, turning back to look at him.

Descole laughed under his breath and looked forward, toward the door to the auditorium.

"It's simple, I've seen it in person. I wouldn't be going to such lengths to rise it if there was still doubt in my mind about its legitimacy," he said.

Reine mulled over his words briefly, then nodded.

"That's reasonable. But I suppose I'm just a skeptic at heart," she said with a shrug.

"Anyways, in your letter, you mentioned working with another man. Is he here?" she asked.

Descole nodded once and flicked his head toward the auditorium.

"Just up the stairs. There's also something I've been meaning to show you in there as well, so we should make our way up as soon as possible," he explained.

"Oh! Well then, there's no time like the present, eh?" Reine said, grabbing onto her bag.

"No time like the present," Descole echoed, walking past Reine and toward the stairs. Reine watched him go before heading up herself.

Descole lead Reine into a large room - the theatre itself, she presumed, judging from the rows of maroon seats and a stage at the far end of the lanes. Curtained balconies sat on the high arching walls. However, as impressive the room was, something else caught Reine's eye. It was an odd machine to the side of the stage. Reine slowed her pace to stare at the machine in awe. It almost looked like a pipe organ of some sorts. Except that it had different musical instruments attached to it where the pipes should be. Descole turned and looked at Reine from where he stood.

“That is the Detragan. A musical instrument of my design. It is supposed to replicate the sound of a full orchestra when played,” he explained. He walked over to Reine’s side and gestured to someone standing by the Detragan. They were messing with something above the Detragan's keyboard.

“And that is Oswald Whistler. He’s a composer, and a friend of mine. He commissioned me to design and build this instrument, in exchange I commissioned him to write an opera.”

“An opera?” Reine asked. Descole hummed quietly and nodded, walking forwards. Reine followed him.

“Yes. One based on the legend of Ambrosia. Whistler here is also the father of the young woman who, unfortunately, died a while ago. However, he and I have planned together a way so that her memories shall live on.”

“Huh,” Reine said as she looked around the room and at Mr. Whistler. He noticed her and murmured something under his breath. He turned back to what he was doing beforehand. Reine thought that was weird, but pushed it out of her mind.

“You see, Professor, the Detragan here is not only a musical instrument, but a scientific machine,” Descole said. He extended a hand towards the Detragan, his cloak parting. 

“The Detragan currently stores the memories of Melina Whistler. The Detragan then has a mechanism that allows for her memories to be transferred to a willing host, via a helmet connected to the Detragan,” Descole explained. Reine’s excitement at seeing such a grand instrument faded away.

“We… currently have not found a willing host to accept Miss Whistler’s memories. But we are working on that, and soon we will have the key to raise Ambrosia.”

“A… a host?” Reine asked quietly.

“Yes, a host. Hopefully a young girl around Melina’s age,” Mr. Whistler interrupted, walking towards Reine and Descole. “She must live on, even if I have to go to such lengths.”

Reine’s eyes shot between Descole and Mr. Whistler. This was it, she reasoned. This was what all her gut feelings were leading to. This was what she was suspicious about; this was what was wrong. She took a step back and shook her head slowly.

“That’s... that’s not right,” she said. The two glanced down at her and Descole spoke up first:

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s not right,” Reine repeated. She took a couple more steps back.

“You’re transferring someone’s memories into another living, breathing person,” she said. Her voice got louder. “You’re treating that host as a… disposable vessel!”

“Professor Wicker,” Descole said in an effort to silence her. He took a step forward towards Reine. She stared up at him and gestured wildly to the Detragan.

“That person has memories of their own! They’ve had experiences, feelings, complex thought and you’re just  _ throwing all that away?!” _

“Professor Wicker!” Descole repeated, louder. Reine ignored him and she turned to Mr. Whistler.

“Mister Whistler, please, I know you’re grieving but this isn’t the best way to go about this,” she said, “there are better ways to mourn than to revive the dead.”

“ _ Don’t tell me how to grieve! _ I lost my daughter, and I’m trying to get her back. It’s the noblest of pursuits,” he snapped.

“Mister Whistler is right, Professor. I’m trying to help this poor man who’s lost so much,” Descole explained.

“You’re using him.”

“What?”

“You don’t care, do you?” Reine asked, looking at Descole. “All you care for is Ambrosia.”

“If he didn’t care, why would he be helping me build the Detragan for Melina?” Mr. Whistler interrupted.

“You said Mister Whistler’s daughter was the key you needed. You’re just trying to revive her so you can--”

_ “Be quiet!”  _ Descole shouted. Reine shut her mouth and took another step backwards, nearly falling down a stair.

“You clearly aren’t with us anymore,” he growled. “And unless you change your viewpoint, I can’t have you going against me.” He waved a hand dismissively.

“So leave if you will! You’re useless to me now.”

Reine scoffed and turned her back on Descole, walking towards the auditorium's exit. She heard a snap from behind her and from seemingly nowhere, multiple goons appeared and blocked the large door. Reine spun around and glared at Descole.

“However... I can’t have you spilling about my plans, either,” he added.

“So what are you going to do? Keep me hostage here until your 'plan' rolls out?” Reine demanded. She immediately regretted blurting out.

“Swear your silence," Descole said.

“Or else?” Reine mentally winced. _What the hell are you thinking?!_

“Don’t test your luck, Wicker.”

A beat of tense silence passed between the two scholars. The air in the auditorium stood still.

“...fine. I won’t say a word,  _ Descole,"  _ Reine spat.

Another beat of silence.

"Good."

Descole glared at Reine for a good few seconds before flicking his hand. Reine felt hands grab her arms and hold her in place. Several of the goons pushed her down onto the hard wooden floor. A shot of pain erupted from Reine's cheek as she winced. She couldn't see anything but the ground. What mess did she get herself into? Her mind couldn't wander far, as she felt something stab into her arm. The pain was brief, as the world rapidly faded into black thereafter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that escalated quickly
> 
> and 1 month without an update? what are you talking about?
> 
> anyways here we are! kudos and comments are both appreciated!


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